


Summer (England x Wiccan! reader)

by sonofares3000



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23394073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofares3000/pseuds/sonofares3000
Summary: A summer is very alike love. Time of plenty, filled with warmth, a heaven to autumn's Hel.
Relationships: England (Hetalia)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Summer (England x Wiccan! reader)

**Author's Note:**

> Sooth: truth  
> Alack: Archaic form of expressing grief, variation of alas  
> Yonder: archaic form of over there  
> Eros: roman name for Cupid
> 
> Any suggestion, I'm all ears! ;)

As the sun beamed sunny rays, a little too hot if I may say! Cicadas were abuzz, objecting about the clime. Three girls fanned themselves with paper. A couple took a white dog out for a walk. A group of gossips chatted in familiar talk. A boy licked a retreating ice-cream, tiny a drop escaped the nagging harry. An ordinary hot day, to an adult may seem. But to child me, that summer day was a dream. I was looking all through my maps, to blot the place where fairies reside. After failed attempts, I decided to seek help. I spotted a boy, child enough, yet enough whelp.  
“Howdy, howdy, wanna find fairies with me?”  
“….Why would I look for faeries? Too hot today be.…”  
“ ‘cause, ‘cause, wishes they give. Here’s the book!  
So, wanna across the brook upturn every nook?”  
“I heard fairies were nice, so a sure for my wish.”  
Despite vibrating heat, many a stone lay upturned. By the day’s end, it can be said the park was a mess, with fairies still merry hidden, and no upcoming bless. Yet, I did not waste away my day. For a happy friendship I found, by playing with fairies hide and seek. Saw each other again by next week, for we sought each other out on our meeting place. Name was Arthur, from Britain he came, a distant sea. Gripping stories and secrets shared he and me, as against summer’s bore we fought. As summers leapt away, more unique we became. As summers leapt away, yet closer we became. Disagreeing was like a game, a welcome flame. But, one day I sat in thought under a tree, when a curious thing happened to me. A hive of butterflies started jostling in my insides. They did so upon cause of looking at Arthur’s sides! At first, thought I, it was the sun’s warmth. Yet, when trees stripped, they did not migrate. Many a fire did I ignite, many a heart did I draw, writing his name on it, kissing thrice in awe, thinking of him, hoping the love spells would work. I even tried them out at school, seeking a miracle.  
“By Jove, please let my love feel the same way…”  
“Oh? So ____, has a lover, ready to sweep her away?”  
“Arthur you h-heard? Y-you, it’s rude to spy on a maiden!”  
“You were delaying, so I came in case you were laden  
Give you a helping hand, sooner be solved whatever case  
As I stepped here, by chance, I heard you bass”  
He said, curiously, with a hint of sadness  
“O-oh, I see, thank you t-then, let’s go.”  
But I was still, my heart not letting me leave  
Arthur’s sleeve I then held fast, “Grant me reprieve,  
The thing is that I’m, y-you, I-I. I love you, dammit!”  
So I uttered, with frustration and love meshed up. Arthur looked me in the eyes, unblinking, freezing, then, nervously touched my hand, as if teasing. Here a wee touch; there a wee touch, then held fast. I was set at ease by feeling similar shyness in him. I looked at him, and he looked at me, in fondness. Not getting closer to seeping warmth, hardness. We embraced in that sea of rowed seats, pecking softly each other’s cheeks. Whispering, muffled, our mutual affections, echoing; as if the walls’ cheered the connection. From that day on, we shared another love, honeying our remaining middle school days, smiling, laughing, prying fun at old fuss, with hesitant touches, upturning in boldness. As high school started, we were up for a change. My mother had climbed her job’s ladder, and an envious promotion she had grabbed. Traded our location so, promotion could be jabbed. Arthur and I did not allow this to break us. Kissed each other with soft messages, and every weekend, flew to each other, playing as we did any other summer. Slowly, nature changed to her autumnal robe, losing her snugness, as did our love. Slowly, but surely, apart and cool we grew. Words and visits, started to range in few. Was it because we held too romantic a view? That we did not give our uttermost to the venture? Or were we so busy, that our place was filled? No more, earth available for by Eros to be tilled? Arthur joined a basketball club, for school president I ran. Knot broken, best course was already agreed upon. Acquaintances now, not a sigh, not a bit of con. Seems, our hearts, afore us, had already moved on. I eventually graduated, and followed after my mother. I became an entrepreneur, skilled in abacus and sass. But in matters pertaining to Venus, loss came in a flash. Seems my offering to the fairies were to them trash! Well, amongst the whining cicadas, peace plays. So I habit a sit amongst them, and be in merry haze, drinking my cool coke, a libation upon my cells. Withdrawing the summer’s breath, bye, farewell. In sooth*, I’m more than content, too well! Dreaming about past love, in the mad dwells! Not on me, the accomplished lady that you can see. Alack*, who I kid? A pathetic romantic, it’s me. To defend, treasures of childhood are always pricier. Trinkets are sounder, places prettier, love mightier. Yet, as I said thus to the void mind of the park, if mockery were person, in laughter she’d bark. The odor of the ashes of that amour, I will ever smell. But, I can’t fixate upon what ifs, in grief swell. Just coolly wonder, if we’ve stayed lovebirds, the could’ve beens of that doting on the suburbs. But like the summery butterfly flying yonder*, learn from each stumble, not ever ceasing to wander. Suckling flower and flower, I’ll find love. But, if against odds, I do not, joy still behooves. 

Sooth: truth  
Alack: Archaic form of expressing grief, variation of alas  
Yonder: archaic form of over there


End file.
